this was the cutest thing ive ever seen ever

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Blue blue singing along to her mommy makes my heart melt!

rogelio de la vega is honestly the best male character ive ever seen on television 

  • he doesnt give a shit about masculinity. moisturizing, avocado masks, etc.
  • the episode where he realizes how attractive rafael was, and he was so unapologetic about it.
  • he openly became best friends with his daughter’s lover, instead of trying to act like that stereotypical father thats mean to the man his daughter dates.
  • him renaming his grandson, matelio. 
  • his obsession with twitter.
  • he puts his family first all the time, i literally want to cry, he’s such a good man. 
  • he compliments people in the cutest way ever. :(
  • he loves shopping for clothes.
  • he knows the importance of lighting when it comes to photo taking.
  • ‘why are you so afraid of having your pelvis touch mine?’
  • his dedication to concealer is the greatest thing ive ever seen. 
  • when he left the AC running for 30 minutes and explained by saying ‘i didnt want your makeup to run’ on jane’s wedding day, what a dad! 
  • he owns up to his mistakes whenever he can. ie: when he told xo to get an abortion. 
  • he knows damn well that he can dance. 
  • HIS SKIN CARE DEDICATION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
  • when he payed for jane’s education and literally set up a fake scholarship so she wouldn’t find out that the money was coming from him, like come on…
  • him constantly calling michael is best friend :( 
  • his moment of blatantly checking out rafael’s ass on the elevator one time after saying ‘i never realized how attractive you were until now’
  • again, he doesn’t give a shit about masculinity. 

the promised Moriel fluff for @highfaelucien! thanks 2 @pterodactylichexameter for the suggestion. YOU HAVE TO FORGIVE ME FOR ALL THE ANGST NOW, THAT’S THE RULES. >:)

——————————–

Az has more secrets than anyone in Velaris, but Mor’s never seen him like this about one before. It’s subtle, as Az is wont to be—Mor might not pick up on it if she didn’t know him as well as she does—but he’s reveling in it; a smirk plays at his lips, his eyes glint in smug satisfaction as he watches her silently try to form a guess.

There’s someone I’d like to you meet, his note had said, with a request for her to come over. So Mor had knocked on the door of his condo by the river for a drink she’s almost finished with. But he still hasn’t given any indication yet who he meant, and the mystery is slowly eating at her. Is it an old friend? A lover? She cracks first, bringing it up before he does.

“I think you enjoy keeping me in suspense a little too much,” she says playfully, swirling the remains of her wine in its glass.

Az gives a arch smile into his whiskey, elbows rested on his thighs where he sits on the couch. His shadows swirl languidly around him, content. “Can you blame me? The Morrigan knows all, it’s fun to see you squirm for once.”

Mor gives a soft, surprised laugh: he really is in a good mood. Az doesn’t often flirt with her, in any traditional sense; he tends to vacillate between stoic loyalty and broken devotion. It’s a delight to see him truly relaxed, but even if she’s hardly ever felt possessive of Azriel—and she shouldn’t, for cauldron’s sake, they’re not together—the evidence of how happy this mystery person clearly makes him sends a little twinge to her gut. She does her best to ignore it.

“Az, come on—who am I meeting?” She insists good-naturedly, reaching to touch his arm, “I’m dying to know. Five hundred years of you keeping your lovers secret and there’s finally one you want us to meet, they must be—“

Az bursts out in choking laughter, putting his drink down so he doesn’t spill it. “You think I asked you to come over so you could meet my secret lover?”

“Or—I don’t know, a friend, maybe—“ Az is still laughing, and Mor has to laugh too at his reaction, gestures wildly. “But what was I supposed to think?”

“Alright, I—“ he tries to collect himself, chuckling. “I surrender. I’ll go get her.”

Mor has a moment to sit in her own bewilderment—it’s a her? She’s here? She hears him murmur sweetly from around the corner, and it compounds her confusion until she sees him return.

Mor can’t help but let out a little delighted gasp. “Az, you got a cat?”

Azriel is grinning, and in his arms is a tawny bundle of fluff who blinks sleepily in Mor’s direction. “This,” he takes her tiny little paw with his free hand and waves it in Mor’s direction, “Is Sacha.”

Mor squeals girlishly, is crossing the room to fawn over the little angel before he even finishes saying her name. “She’s precious,” Mor coos as she pets her.

“I woke her up from a nap to meet you, so she’s a little tired.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Sacha,” Mor whispers sweetly, “You’re much cuter than any of Az’s lovers would be.”

He laughs, and Mor’s heart swells—she’s more relieved than she might have guessed that this is the secret. And his clear adoration for the kitten is as adorable as the kitten itself.

“Here, sit down,” He prompts her. “She’s a lap cat.”

Mor complies and Azriel gently puts Sacha next to her on the couch—sure enough, she yawns with her little pink mouth, and, after a moment of investigation, decides to pad her way into Mor’s lap, a warm little weight that starts to purr furiously. Sacha’s small but almost grown, though still possessed of kitten gangliness and big liquid eyes.

Mor melts, stroking her downy fur. “Az, she’s perfect.”

The smile that spreads across Az’s face is like honey, slow and sweet, and it makes Mor feel warm down to her toes.

“Do you want to see the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your life?” He asks, almost conspiratorial. He murmurs to one of his shadows, and it snakes out, runs across the floor—

The kitten perks up immediately in Mor’s lap.

She laughs as the shadow wiggles and dances, and the kitten takes off after it, on the hunt as Az directs it across the room, under chairs and over tables, Sacha pouncing and bounding after it. Her paws swipe uselessly through the darkness when she catches it, and Az is right—it’s the cutest thing Mor’s ever seen.